by Anna King
But if she were to have a baby, then surely she would stay with him, if only for the sake of the child.
Putting his best smile on he asked the waiting customer, ‘Yes, love, and what can I get you today?’
* * *
It was one o’clock and Sadie was sitting in the pie and mash shop drinking her third mug of tea. She was aware of the curious glances in her direction, not surprising since she’d been sitting in the same booth for the past two hours. Ignoring the other occupants of the café she sipped her tea, her eyes staring unseeingly out of the window. She’d had no trouble in locating Ted Parker. The first stallholder she had spoken to had pointed him out to her. Her heart beating like a drum, she had slowly approached the stall, her eyes darting back and forth in search of a glimpse of the young boy she had set out to find, but the tall, dark-haired man appeared to be working the stall alone. At any other time, Sadie would have appreciated the rugged good looks of Ted Parker, but not today. Today, the only thing on her mind was trying to find a way to keep the child she had grown to love.
But instead of enquiring of the boy’s whereabouts she heard herself asking for a pound of apples and half a dozen oranges; Molly needed the good nourishing food she had long been denied. Oblivious of Ted’s good-natured banter, Sadie paid for her purchases and, needing more time to get her thoughts in order, decided to treat herself to her favourite meal of pie and mash. She had just finished her third mug of tea when a man slid into the booth, sitting himself down comfortably on the bench opposite her. Raising her eyes she saw the dark-haired market trader staring at her with marked curiosity.
Without preamble he said, ‘I hear yer’ve been asking about me. D’yer mind telling me why?’
Knowing men as she did, Sadie knew that, despite the man’s good-natured tone, he wasn’t the type to be fobbed off easily. With the ease of a man comfortable in himself he beckoned over the waitress and ordered a meal, a mug of strong tea, and another one for Sadie. By the way the waitress hovered coyly over him it was obvious that not only was he well known in the café, but that he was also very much a ladies’ man. Ten, fifteen years ago, she would likely have felt the same attraction, but with the life she’d led, men no longer had the power to excite her.
‘Well. You gonna tell me why you’ve been looking fer me, or do I have ter tie you down and beat the truth outta you?’ Ted grinned amiably. ‘Oh, thanks, darlin’,’ he said as the piping hot dinner was laid before him. The waitress darted a quizzical look at Sadie, then squealed with pleasure as Ted slapped her smartly on the backside. Giving her a broad wink he said laughingly, ‘Bring us over another tea in five minutes, there’s a good girl.’
Her cheeks turning a bright pink the waitress hurried to her next customer.
Tucking into his meal Ted said lightly, ‘I’m still waiting, love. You must ’ave a good reason fer wanting to meet me, and seeing as I’m a curious bloke, I’d like ter know why, and you ain’t leaving till you tell me.’
Behind the friendly tone, Sadie knew the man was deadly serious. Not knowing where to start, she swallowed nervously, then, deciding the best course of action was just to blurt out the truth, she said quietly, ‘I’ve been looking fer a boy called Micky Masters and I was told he works fer you. I’ve got his sister Molly staying with me.’ Even though she had been expecting some sort of reaction she wasn’t prepared for the electrifying effect her words had on the market trader.
His dinner forgotten, Ted leant forward, his flippant manner replaced by one of desperate urgency. ‘Listen, love, I don’t know who you are, or if you’re telling the truth. There’s a lot of people who’ll be grateful ter you forever, including me. But if you’re pissing me about, then you’ve got a bleeding sick sense of humour.’
Immediately on the defensive Sadie shot back angrily, ‘Don’t you talk ter me like that. What d’yer take me for? I found Molly hiding in a filthy ruin, and I took her home with me. All she talked about that night was her wonderful brother Micky, an’ I thought I’d look after her fer the night then set about finding ’er brother the next day. Only it didn’t work out like that, ’cos the following morning I couldn’t get a word out of her. And believe me I tried. I mean, I didn’t mind having ’er stay the night, but I certainly didn’t bargain on ’aving ’er still with me a fortnight later. Apart from knowing ’er brother’s name, and that he did some odd jobs for a nice lady in a bakery before getting a job with a man called Ted Parker who ran a fruit and veg stall. But she didn’t say where the bakery or market was for that matter. And like I said, the morning after I couldn’t get anything else outta ’er. I didn’t ’ave anything else ter go on. It ain’t easy trying ter find someone when yer ain’t got a clue where ter look. I reckon the only reason she clammed up was because she was frightened something bad had happened ter her brother. In her little mind she was probably scared of being sent back ter the workhouse an’ hoped that if she kept quiet and behaved herself I’d take ’er in and look after her.’
Impatiently pushing away his plate Ted said scathingly, ‘Don’t give me that. Bleeding hell, the story was splashed all over the front page of the Hackney Gazette for the first three days after Molly went missing. She’s not headline news anymore but the paper’s still asking fer anyone who’s got any information ter come forward. They’ve even offered a reward…’ Ted’s eyes suddenly narrowed. ‘Is that what this is all about? ’Cos if it is then you’re outta luck. You ain’t the first one that’s tried to collect the reward…’
He wasn’t given the chance to finish his sentence, for Sadie, emotionally drained, her anger reaching boiling point, spat out bitterly, ‘You bastard! I ain’t interested in the money. I didn’t even know there was a reward… Oh, yeah, yer can look at me like that, yer smug git, but it’s the truth. And the reason I didn’t know about it is because I don’t buy the newspapers; there wouldn’t be much point seeing as I can’t read.’ Her breathing rapid, Sadie carried on. ‘If yer must know, I was hoping I wouldn’t be able ter find Molly’s brother. I know I said I was annoyed at first at being lumbered with her, but the truth is, I’ve grown ter love her. I thought, given time, she’d forget her brother, ’cos apart from that first night she hardly ever mentioned him. And like I said, I was ’oping, in time, she’d grow ter love and be happy with me. But last night, as I was tucking ’er into bed, she suddenly started crying for her brother. And once she’d started it all came tumbling out. The name of the bakery where he used ter do odd jobs, and she told me your name, but she couldn’t remember the market where you worked; though once I knew your name it wasn’t hard ter find you.’ Her voice dropped to a whisper as she tiredly pushed back a strand of hair from her face.
‘So there it is. First thing this morning I left Molly with a friend and came looking. I went ter the bakery first, then I lost me nerve and asked someone if she knew of a Ted Parker.’ She bravely gave a watery smile. ‘Seems you’re well known, because the woman I asked knew exactly who you was and where I could find you…’ She raised her shoulders, ‘So ’ere I am, and before the day’s out Molly’ll be with her brother and everyone will be ’appy… except me.’ Her voice began to tremble as the strain of keeping up a normal appearance finally got the better of her. Her eyes suspiciously bright, a sob caught in her throat as she said, ‘It’ll break me ’eart to let ’er go, but I’ve gotta think of Molly, and ’er brother… Oh, shit! Let’s get outta ’ere, please, before I make a complete mug of meself.’
Throwing down some coins on the marble table Ted took Sadie’s arm and led her from the café. Once out in the fresh air Sadie began to regain control of her emotions.
‘So then, where is this Micky? I thought he was working fer you.’
‘He is. Sometimes he puts in a full day’s work, then there’s times like today when he can’t settle, and off he goes to search the streets for his sister. He often doesn’t come ’ome till gone midnight, almost dead on his feet. He used ter be such a happy kid, but he ain’t smiled since Molly went missing.’
Ted paused before asking, ‘Did Molly say anything about a man called Kenneth Wells?’
Sadie shook her head. ‘No, I don’t remember her mentioning anyone of that name. Though she did say something about a nasty man she was afraid of. Is that the man?’
Ted nodded grimly. ‘Yeah, that’s the perverted bastard. It’s also why Micky’s been almost outta his ’ead with fear that Wells had got hold of her. Look, give me ten minutes ter find someone ter take care of me stall, and then I’ll take yer ’ome with me ter wait fer Micky. It’ll give me the chance ter fill yer in with the rest of the story.’ He hadn’t walked more than a few steps when he turned and asked, ‘I know it’s none of me business, but what was yer doing in that derelict house at that time of the evening?’
For the first time in her life Sadie was suddenly ashamed of her profession. Then, lifting her chin proudly she replied, ‘You’re right, it ain’t none of your business. But if yer must know I was entertaining a client. To put it more bluntly, I’m a brass; there, satisfied now, are yer?’
Ted walked back towards her, a smile on his face. Then to her surprise he lifted her off her feet and planted a kiss on her cheek.
‘From where I’m standing, darling, you’re 18-carat pure gold.’
Then he was striding off, whistling happily, leaving Sadie feeling she had suddenly become someone special, and that feeling caused her chest to swell with emotion and pride. Her step lighter she began to browse among the stalls until Ted returned for her.
Chapter Nineteen
At almost the same time Sadie was entering the pie and mash shop, three other people were also consumed with thoughts of Molly, each one for very different reasons.
Micky Masters had been pounding the streets since six o’clock that morning. After a sleepless night, his mind forming indescribable images of his sweet Molly in the hands of that dirty old man, he had finally given up hope of getting any rest and, careful not to wake Ted or Nora, crept out of the house, praying fervently that this might be the day he found his sister. The condition he might find her in was pushed firmly to the furthest recesses of his mind.
Walking the same streets he had trodden the last fortnight he stopped every person he encountered to ask if they had seen a girl answering his sister’s description; the answer was always the same. Most of the people he stopped looked at the ashen-faced boy who seemed to have aged years in the short time his younger sister had gone missing, and smiled at him pityingly, wishing with all their hearts they could do something to help, but powerless to do more than pat the young man on the shoulder and try to reassure him his sister would be found soon while knowing that those chances were slim to the point of impossibility. After all this time there was no doubt in anyone’s mind that Molly Masters was dead – and those brave enough to look straight into the boy’s eyes saw that he knew it too, but would never rest until the body was found and given a decent burial. Yet for every person who stopped to offer some kind of sympathy or hope, there were at least three others who hurriedly crossed the road, or disappeared into the nearest shop to avoid the desperate young boy. As one woman remarked to her friend, the world could be a cruel place at the best of times, but a boy of Micky Masters’ age should never have to experience the kind of pain he was suffering. She added grimly that when that Wells bloke was caught he should be handed over to the fathers and mothers of the East End. They’d make sure he never harmed a child again – not with his balls cut off he wouldn’t.
Micky trudged on, his steps slowing as the sleepless night and five hours of walking began to catch up on him. His eyes felt hard and gritty, and every bone and muscle in his body ached, yet still he carried on. But if his body was bone weary his mind continued to taunt him.
It was all his fault. If he hadn’t gone into the bakery with Agnes that night, he wouldn’t have ended up in prison and Molly wouldn’t have been left unprotected. He should have been suspicious of Agnes’ sudden show of friendship, but she had seemed so genuine. Even so, based on past experience with that old bitch, he shouldn’t have been so trusting. But the fact remained he had, and he would never forgive himself. Molly had trusted him unconditionally, and he had let her down. As he walked on, his head felt suddenly light and his vision became blurred. The next thing he knew his legs buckled at the knees, and if it hadn’t been for a kind passer-by catching hold of his thin body, he would have fallen onto the hard cobbles.
‘Come on, mate, let’s get yer ’ome an’ some grub inside yer, ’cos I bet yer ain’t eaten today, ’ave yer? An’ yer ain’t gonna do yer sister any good if yer land up in the ’ospital.’
Micky peered up at the man holding him upright, trying to recall his name, but he was so exhausted he could barely remember his own. Without uttering a word he offered no resistance as the concerned man half-walked, half-carried the youngster to the Parkers’ home.
* * *
Agnes was also feeling the strain. If anything had happened to the young girl she would never be able to live with herself again. She was honest enough to recognise her own faults and admit she had turned into a bitter, lonely woman. She was also aware that she didn’t have one single person in the world she could call a friend, and that knowledge cut her deeply. Her life could have been so different if she had never gone to work for Arthur Mitson, and in doing so fall in love with a man who had used her for comfort after the death of his father, then dumped her without a second thought. She could have been happily married to a man who loved her, and children – oh, how she had longed for children. For years she had kept hoping that one day either Arthur would renew their relationship, or, failing that, she’d hoped that she would meet someone else. And with each passing year her hopes faded until she was forced to admit she would never hear a child call her Mum. Mum! Such a simple word, yet so precious. Was it any wonder, starved of love as she had been, she had been so easily duped into believing the lies Kenneth had told her? How he must have laughed at her eagerness to please him, and she, stupid fool as she was, had fallen hook, line and sinker for his plausible patter. And in doing so had put an innocent child at risk of an ordeal she had suffered herself as a child at the hands of her uncle.
The only consolation she had was the fact that the smooth-talking bastard didn’t have the girl. If he had got his filthy hands on Molly, he would never have come to her that night in a rage at being deprived of his prey. But despite the intervention of PC John Smith, she knew that men like Wells – she couldn’t think of him by his real name of Stokes – didn’t give up easily. Somebody had Micky’s sister, and she had to find her before Wells did. But that was easier said than done. Sitting on a bench in Victoria Park she reflected on recent events.
Like Micky, she had also been walking the streets for weeks. But unlike Micky Masters, Agnes was searching for the man who had effectively destroyed the lives of so many people, including herself. She was at present living in a one-room flat in Shoreditch, too frightened to return to her home, for fear of further reprisals. Even if the child was found safe and sound, there was always the chance she could return and find her home burned to the ground in retaliation for what many people deemed her part in being in league with a pervert.
Finishing the sandwiches she had brought with her, she rose reluctantly to her aching feet. It was just gone eleven. She would visit a few pubs before returning to her dingy room for a couple of hours’ sleep, before venturing back out onto the streets once more. Making sure the black crochet shawl she had worn covering her head and most of her face since that night she had landed at Ma Wilson’s door in case someone recognised her, she summoned up her waning strength and ventured forth once more. Stopping at a back street pub she ordered a large gin to keep her strength up. She was about to leave when the pub doors opened and a smartly dressed man sauntered in. Her jaw dropping in disbelief, her head swivelled round to follow his progress, unable to believe her eyes. The hair colouring was different, the once smooth face was now sporting a moustache and a goatee beard, while the upper part of
his face was almost obscured by a pair of tortoise-shell eye glasses. But despite his best efforts to alter his appearance, Agnes recognised him straight away, and it took all of her willpower to stay where she was and not run across the pub and attack him with all the strength she possessed. A surge of rage swept through her. Her basic instinct was to scream his true identity to the entire pub before smashing her empty glass right into that smug, evil face. After that she would leave him to the mercy of the pub customers, and if there was any justice they’d tear him limb from limb. Her lips white with fury she gripped the empty glass. She had to think and think hard. Every fibre in her being wanted to avenge what he had done to her. For not only had he ruined her life, he had used her in the most despicable way known to man. No! She must keep her head. Even though he hadn’t managed to get the child that night he had attacked her, there was always the possibility he had somehow tracked her down since. If that was the case then the only way to find the child was to follow Kenneth wherever he went.
Until then she would have to put all thoughts of revenge on hold. Her day would come, of that she had no doubt. Careful to keep her shawl half covering her face she ordered another gin and waited.
* * *
Taking a last look in the full-length mirror in the boarding house, where he had been staying since that nosy bastard John Smith had appeared on the scene, the well-dressed man gave a satisfied smirk at the image that stared back at him. For weeks he’d had to dress like a working-class man, a scruffy, unwashed male of the lowest order in his books, in order to avoid being recognised. Now that period of time was nearly over. It had been hard to contain his frustration once he had ascertained that the slut Sadie North was the cause of all his misfortunes. His first instinct had been to confront the blowsy prostitute, but after witnessing the violent altercation in the public house he had quickly changed his mind. Instead he had followed the furious woman to a block of flats not too far from the pub. It was an area he was familiar with, so he didn’t have to worry about finding it again. All night he had lain awake, thinking hard as to how he would get his Molly back-if indeed the child referred to was his Molly!
